


Sense and Wonder

by miera



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Episode Related, Established Relationship, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-03-07
Updated: 2008-03-07
Packaged: 2017-10-14 07:34:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/146902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miera/pseuds/miera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He can still taste her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sense and Wonder

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the **notjustclosets** ficathon, for the episode "The Real World."

He can still taste her.

John stares through the plastic sheeting of the quarantine tent that's shrouding Elizabeth from all of them. He can't touch her, even though he could probably get away with it in this very public setting given the circumstances, even if he didn't care about the risk she poses to everyone right now.

He can hear Carson and Rodney talking in the distance and smell the antiseptic tang of the infirmary and he's aware of Ronon and Teyla standing nearby as they keep vigil while Elizabeth lies there in front of them.

Unconscious. Infected by god damned nanites.

Dying.

But as his jaw clenches, he can still taste her.

***

There are a lot of reasons John hates it when Elizabeth goes off-world, especially on first contact missions, but they all boil down to how his heart nearly exploded when Niam attacked her and Ronon and Teyla's combined strength wasn't enough to pry him off Elizabeth's throat. How he couldn't get his voice to work right when he looked at her, pale and shaking and struggling for breath after he blew the bastard out into space.

He slips into her quarters late that night, after she's gone to bed, and when he nudges her sideways to make room for him Elizabeth doesn't even wake up. She just shifts and lets him slide in under the covers behind her.

He wonders to himself when exactly they got so used to one another that she wouldn't bother to open her eyes at him joining her in bed.

***

John wakes, his heart pounding with fear, and even though Elizabeth's body is spooned up against him, still asleep, he's not close enough.

He traces the line of her neck lightly with two fingers. He can't see the bruises in the dim light of early morning, but he knows they are there.

His fingers follow her collarbone, pushing the thin strap of her tank top out of the way. She stirs, but not fully, and he strokes back along her shoulder, finds the soothing rhythm of her heartbeat under the fragile skin of her throat.

Elizabeth cuddles into him, making this little contented sound that he can't help smiling at.

He shifts his hand lower, slipping it under the blankets and her shirt and brushes his fingertips over her belly, skimming her navel and then up and just grazing her nipple. He circles gently, feeling the skin pebble and harden under his touch. She sighs again, squirming, her ass rubbing against his groin, eyes still shut. John wonders for a moment how to get her to wake up for real. Then he smirks to himself as he pushes the blankets off.

It's a little worrisome that Elizabeth lets him take off her pajama bottoms and only opens her eyes _after_ his hands are inside her underwear.

She blinks up at him, still sleepy, as he leans back and frees her legs from her panties and her socks. She yawns and stretches, making the tank top ride up and he takes a moment to appreciate the sight of Elizabeth mostly nude and sleep-rumpled lying before him. Her feet land against his bare chest and she wiggles her toes at him. She grins lazily, folding her arms under her head.

John massages her ankles and her calves for a minute, bringing a blissful expression to her face before parting her legs to rest on either side of him. He lets his palms slide up the insides of her thighs and Elizabeth opens up for him, and for the first time he's aware of the heat that has built up in his own body. He's been focused on watching her so he could push away the nightmare that had woken him up – the image of Elizabeth dead, floating in the void of space, tumbling just out of his reach.

Ignoring his own arousal for the moment, he settles on his elbows as comfortably as he can manage in the narrow bed and kisses her belly button. "Morning sleeping beauty," he says quietly against her skin.

She doesn't really answer him with words, but the little gasps he draws as he mouths kisses across her stomach and then lower are better than any other greeting. He nuzzles the crease where her hip and thigh meet, and he can smell her strongly now. He wants to dive right in, but he knows her body. He makes himself scatter little biting kisses on her thighs first, before his hands slowly cup her ass and his thumbs spread her wider.

He swipes his tongue along hot, smooth skin and lets her taste flood his mouth. He groans as he savors it. She's already a little wet and he lingers, lapping at her eagerly, exploring her even though he's well-familiar with the territory by now. His unshaven cheeks are probably a bit rough against her delicate flesh, but when he finally strokes his tongue along the side of her clit, just the way she likes, Elizabeth bucks against his hands, trying to push closer to his mouth.

She both loves and can't handle being teased, and since they started doing this, John has always seemed to know instinctively where the line is. He licks slowly, alternating sides, until Elizabeth is twisting against his hold. He backs off, using the tip of his tongue on the edge of her clit, waiting as her frustration builds to just the right point.

Elizabeth's fingers rake through his hair and she whimpers, "John, please." Inside him, something possessive and almost feral preens at having her begging; probably the same part that drives him to protect her at all costs, that gives him nightmares whenever her life is in danger, that keeps him sneaking into her bed when they both know it's dangerous for reasons having nothing to do with external enemies.

He knows she's ready to snap. Her body is quivering against his lips, and when he slips a finger into her she's slick and her muscles are twitching. He adds another finger, crooking them upwards just right, and begins to lick alongside her clit with the flat of his tongue.

He goes fast, but she needs it fast now, and Elizabeth is reduced to guttural noises that in no way resemble speech as he coaxes her up and up. Just when his jaw is starting to hurt a little her body freezes. He doesn't stop, but her anticipation is contagious. His own body is coiled so tightly he thinks for a second he might come when she does.

He feels her orgasm against his tongue as her muscles tremble under his mouth, and around his fingers as her muscles clench. Her scent is so thick it's clinging to everything: the sheets, his skin, his hair. His chin is wet from her coming hard, all over his face.

He did that to her. He doesn't think he'll ever get tired of seeing Elizabeth's face contorted with pleasure like that, knowing _he_ made her feel that way.

Even as he pets her skin for a minute, letting her get her breath back before he moves, John feels the knot of tension in him easing. It has nothing to do with his erection, which is still straining at his boxers, and everything to do with knowing this is real. She's alive, and the proof of that fills his senses, surrounding him comfortingly.

He'd wake Elizabeth up like this every morning if he could, just so he could go all day knowing he had her smell and her juices all over him, and would have them again tomorrow.

***

When he sees Elizabeth lying unconscious on the floor of her office, for a split second John wonders if he is still dreaming.

***

Carson looks grave. "For the moment, we're losing this battle."

John clenches his jaw, staring at Elizabeth through the plastic sheeting of the quarantine tent. Even though he's showered and eaten breakfast, even though hours have passed, he can still taste her on his lips.

*****  



End file.
